


Hold You in the Dark

by PrinceSixFingers



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Mild sensuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-01 11:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8623045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceSixFingers/pseuds/PrinceSixFingers
Summary: Ford's having nightmares and Stan wants to get to the bottom of them.





	1. Chapter 1

“Stan…”

 

 

“Stanley…”

 

 

“Wake up… please…” Ford gently shakes his brother’s shoulder. Stan stirs before slowly coming to.

 

“Ford…?” Stan's vision focuses as he blinks away his heavy eyes. He starts to make out his brother in the dark. Fords eyes are shifty and he's fidgeting with his fingers. He opens his mouth as if to say something before shutting it and looking down, now idly twiddling his thumbs. Stan groans and scoots over in his bed. He lifts the covers for Ford and pats the space next to him.

 

\------------------------------------

This isn't new for Stan. Ford’s had nightmares since they were kids. Back then if he got scared he'd run to his parent’s bed for comfort. This bothered Stan a little since he was right there, in the bunk below him. He was his twin and felt like it was his responsibility to protect Ford.

 

Then when they started getting older their parents told Ford he needed to be brave; to be a big boy (or in his dad’s case, a man) about them and handle them on his own. At first Ford tried but it soon became too much for him to just hold in. Sometimes Stan would wake up to whimpers or soft sobs and he couldn't stand it. By now their beds were on opposite ends of the room, so one night Stan got up and went over to Ford. He picked him up and carried him back to his bed. Even then, Stan was strong enough to pick up his brother. No words were exchanged. Stan will never forget the look on his brothers face that night. Even in the dark, he could make it out – his eyes wide, lips trembling as they curved into the most thankful smile Stan has ever seen. That memory alone brings a warmth to Stan's chest whenever he thinks of it.

 

Before Ford could even utter his thanks, Stan cut him off. He waved his hand towards the wall, letting Ford know he’ll be on the inside of the bed. Ford moved over and Stan hopped in next to him. He pulled the covers over them and rolled onto his side, his back to his brother. Then he felt a hand below his shoulder and immediately a shock coursed through his body.

 

“Thank you Stanley,” his brother says softly, squeezing a bit where his hand rests.

 

“Yeah, yeah. Don't mention it.” Stan had felt his brother before, but never like this. It’s hard to explain but that night it felt new, like something more. Ford’s hand lingered on his arm and Stan wishes it would never leave. Finally, Ford removes his hand and sinks into bed. There was some brief shifting and cover rustling before the room settled, with the soft sounds of the neighborhood coming through before Stan heard his brothers soft breathing. He reached up and felt where that warm six-fingered hand had been and rubbed it gently, feeling the last bit of electricity trickle away from that spot.

 

After that night Ford seemed to have nightmares less often. But the few times he did he always wound up in Stan's bed. The only part about the whole scenario Stan didn't like was how his brother was so damn courteous about it. He wouldn't just slide into bed or nudge Stanley over. Instead, he waited to have permission granted. He woke Stan up each time and asked if it was ok, as if he might be told it wasn't. They were brothers, hell, twins even and yet his Ford still felt the need to ask if something like that was alright.

\------------------------------------

So now, here they are, years later and Ford hasn't changed. He slowly slinks into bed with Stan, laying on his back. Stan, still laying on his side, props himself up on his elbow and looks at his brother.

 

“You alright Poindexter? You wanna talk about it?” Stan yawns sleepily.

 

Ford’s quiet for a while. “It’s alright Stanley. I don't want to be any more of a burden,” he says finally, eyes staring straight ahead.

 

“What? You mean sharing my bed like this?” Stan says, sweeping his free arm up and down Ford’s side of the bed. “Ford, we're brothers. What's mine is yours, got it? Hell, I don't know how many times I've told you ya don't need ta ask if it's alright to just climb in.”

 

“I know. And I appreciate that, you know I do. But I'm sure even you get tired of it night after night,” Ford concedes, tilting his head to look at his brother. “Heaven knows I do,” he bemoans, rubbing his eyes.

 

“That's why I wanna try and help. Tell me about your nightmares. Maybe if we hash ‘em out they'll stop,” Stan offers with a warm smile. It's seeing this that finally melts away Ford’s solemn expression. “So, what happened in your dream?” he asks, trying to contain his enthusiasm.

 

“Well, they're usually rather mundane: sometimes I fail a test, or I get a rejection letter from a school I apply to,” Ford says as Stan rolls his eyes. “Those” he continues unfazed, “are the dreams I usually sleep through. But lately, like tonight, they've been about something else…”

 

“They've been about you.” A silence falls over the two. Ford, finally waiting for Stan to respond and Stan, waiting for Ford to continue.

 

“Well, don't leave me hangin’ Sixer! What about me?” Stanley bursts out finally. His voice betrays him, coming out much more desperate and higher pitched than he expected.

 

“Well… um… when my dreams, or nightmares more accurately, involve you they usually end with you hating me. Sometimes something happens and that's when I wake up or they start that way, with me trying to get you back for the duration of it… I find those ones to be the upsetting. I can never wake up from those prematurely,” Ford finishes, eyes again looking straight at the ceiling.

 

“You're never physical, always verbal or emotional. There have been a few instances where I've begged you to show me, to strike me just to feel you. But even then, you'd tell me it would be a waste of energy because that would show you cared enough to even make contact with me…”

 

“Ford…” Stan utters, but Ford presses on.

 

“...I'm still unsure of whether or not the verbal-you or the emotionally-distant-you is worse. The verbal-you says some of the cruelest things I could ever imagine, especially since they’re coming from you, while the emotionally-distant-you is really like a different person entirely. Like someone who didn't grow up with me and wasn't my twin brother; someone who wishes I was never born…“

 

“I could never...” Stan blinks back the first wave of tears as he tries keep his chest from heaving. He's trying his hardest to keep it together as his brother unknowingly rips his heart out.

 

“…But those aren't even the worst nightmares. The ones that really keep me up at night, the ones I can't even leave my bed for are the ones where-“

 

“Enough Stanford! Please, no more!”

 

Stanford snaps out of his trance-like recollection and finally looks at his brother. Stan has changed positions, no longer laying on his side but now sitting against the wall with his legs crossed. His fists are both tightly balled in his lap. That's when Ford notices them becoming wet. He looks at his brother’s face, tears streaming down his cheeks. Ford is immediately stunned. He had never, to this day, seen Stan cry like this before.

 

“Stanley, I didn't mean to…”

 

“I know you didn't Ford… How long have you been havin’ those kinda nightmares?” Stan asks through stifled breathes.

 

“A few years now I suppose. A little after we had our beds moved.”

 

“Jesus Sixer! How could you go this long without tellin’ me? Especially when I'm the one causin’ ‘em! Even if they are just dreams you had to know I wouldn't be ok with you dealin’ with something like that on your own! Night after night like this, how could you not look at me differently – think of me differently?” Stan clenches his fists tighter.

 

"This is part of why I didn't tell you sooner. I didn't want you to think it was your fault. This is just some silly scenario my subconscious concocted. It was probably just because our beds became separated, that's all. And I'm sure that since I've gotten it off my chest I won't have those kind of nightmares anymore,” Ford says. He's trying to sound reassuring. He can't stand seeing his brother beat himself up over this. And deep down Ford knows his brother could never do anything like that. Right?

 

“I sure hope not. But if you do you tell me, ya hear? ‘Cuz the thought of you thinkin’ like that, even subliminally- “

 

“Subconsciously.”

 

“You know what I mean! Just talk to me about it, ok? Talk to me about anything. I'm always here for you, whatever you need,” Stan says, wiping his face on his shirt. “You know that, don’t cha Stanford?”

 

“Yes, of course I do Stanley. I’m sorry I waited this long to tell you.” Ford sees the pleading look in his brother’s eyes. He honestly didn't think Stan would take it this hard. He hates that he's causing his brother to feel this way, but a part of him is pleased about it. Or maybe pleased isn't the right word; comforted? Relieved? He can't quite put his finger on it…

 

“Look at me,” Stan groans, “I’m a mess.” He wipes away his tears before blowing his nose one last time. “Probably shoulda thought twice before I used my shirt as a tissue.” He lifts his shirt towards Ford, showing the damp spot to his brother. From where his head is angled he can see a bit up Stan’s shirt and starts to blush when he sees his brother’s firm stomach.

 

While not completely defined, his brother has a sturdy build from boxing and working out. His biceps and pecs fill out the top of his shirts very nicely and Ford has always watched how they move underneath his thin white tees. His frame is broad throughout, being held up by strong, yet nimble, boxer’s legs. It's always been a favorite pastime of his to watch his brother fight in the ring; it gives him the perfect excuse to stare at his hunk-of-a-twin brother while he works up a sweat.

 

“Better lose it before this snot dries up.” And with that Stan proceeds to pull the snot-soaked tee over his head. Ford’s eyes widen. He becomes very thankful for the sheets covering his growing hardon. His brother tosses the shirt into his growing pile of dirty clothes and Ford just takes it all in. Between them, Stan is the only one with any body hair. He has the perfect amount of soft brown hair sprinkled across his pecs. It creeps onto his shoulders a bit as pricklier whiskers. Ford, thankfully, knows this last part first hand.  

 

When it started coming in on his shoulders Stan wasn't nearly as excited as he'd been when it started coming in on his chest. He worried it would scare off any girls that might be interested in him. This notion pleased Ford and he reassured his brother that his shoulder hair suited him. He told Stan to be thankful he had any body hair at all, reminding him that he was much less fortunate in that department. Ford remembers his brother messing with the new hairs constantly, complaining about how scratchy they felt. Thankfully Stan hadn't picked up on anything when Ford asked to feel them for himself. It took all of Ford’s willpower to keep his hands from exploring further...

 

And now here he was, staring at his brothers perfect, shirtless form right in front of him. Stan yawns, unconsciously scratching his bare chest. Ford knows he’s staring at this point and tries to hide this, hoping his brother hasn't noticed.

 

“I’m really glad you told me about this Ford. It’ll be a good thing. Promise,” Stan assures him warmly. “Now, how about we get back to sleep, huh? Some of us are honor roll students, ya know?”

 

“You’re right,” Ford chuckles, “ _I_ should get some sleep.” And just like that, he's reminded of how charming his brother is. Ford rolls over onto his side and pulls the covers up over himself. He feels Stan shift on the bed and slide under the covers next to him.

 

There’s a brief pause where neither of them move. The room is quiet and Ford feels himself doze off. Suddenly Stan’s moving around and Ford starts to feel his brother’s breath on the back of his neck. Ford begins to tense up as he tries to figure out what’s going on behind him. Then, he feels his brother’s arm drape itself around his waist. It lies there loosely for bit, as if waiting to be brushed away.

 

Ford offers no resistance, feeling his pulse race at the realization of what's happening. He lies there, letting his body relax with his brothers’ touch. His brother’s strong arm tightens a bit and pulls Ford into him.

 

“St-Stanley?“

 

“Listen, I can’t go back to all the nights you lied alone in bed dealin’ with those nightmares and carry you back to mine like I did when we were kids, but I can be here for you tonight. And I figure if I got you here in the real world you’ll know I’ve got you in your dreams too… So, uh, let me do this for ya, alright Stanford?” Stan’s voice is vulnerable yet firm. Ford can tell that this isn’t a request so much as a thoughtfully worded command. It’s so perfectly Stanley and Ford couldn’t imagine it any other way.

 

“Yeah Stanley, I-I’d like that... A lot.”

 

Ford feels Stan squeeze him as his brother nuzzles his face into the small of Ford’s back. Ford feels something pressing under his pillow and lifts his head to let Stan’s other arm slither into place under his neck. His brother’s chin now rests on his shoulder and Ford can safely say he’s never felt safer and more content in his life. He wiggles back into his brother and rests his hand on his brother’s. It lingers there for a bit before Stan starts to interlace their fingers and Ford reciprocates in turn. Stan lets out a small chuckle and Ford can’t help but feel giddy himself.

 

“Night, Sixer,” Stan coos.

 

“Good night, Stanley,” Ford returns. Soon he hears his brother snoring softly. He feels the last bit of consciousness slip away as he drifts off to sleep, sure that he won’t have another one of those awful dreams ever again.


	2. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan wakes up with Ford in his arms from the night before. Wondering how things will go for the two of them after Ford's confession, Stan hopes things won't become weird for the duo.

Hold You in the Dark – Part 2

It's the wee hours of the morning. The rain outside taps softly on the window, leaving a chill in the room. Stan slowly comes into consciousness, finding it warmer than usual under his covers. He’d been having the best dream. In it, Ford had found his way into his bed during the night and when Stan rolled over to hold him his brother had let him. Even for a dream it felt too good to be true. It was so vivid, so real…

He opens his eyes a bit and sees a sea of brown, fluffy hair in front of him. Breathing in he smells the faint scent of shampoo and starts to think his dream might not have been a dream after all. He realizes his right arm is pressed under someone while his left is draped over them. He pulls them in closer, taking in a big whiff of their hair. Yep, he confirms, it's Ford alright.

He lays there for a while letting this all soak in. He remembers what had led to his brother being in his arms and shudders at the memory of his bawling in front of Ford. He takes his free hand and slowly runs it up and down Fords torso, feeling it through his pajamas. Ford, while not as muscular as he is, is leaner than Stan and has some subtle muscles of his own. He traces the outline of his brother's abs as his hand trails lower, inching below the waistband of Ford’s pajamas. This causes Ford to stir so Stan slowly draws his hand back to having it rest right above his brother's navel.

Stan hears Ford yawn softly as he stretches a bit before noticing the arm draped over his body. Stan tightens his grip a bit and smiles to himself, happy with his brother's reaction.

“Morning princess,” Stan teases. He watches as Ford rolls onto his back, rubbing his eyes as they open to look at Stan.

“Gooh morning Stan,” Ford yawns sleepily. He moves his head around a bit to look around their room from this new perspective. “Whose bed is this?”

“What? You forget about last night already?” Stan chuckles.

“Well, if I’m remembering correctly… I had a nightmare-”

“As usual.”

“Ok,” the academic twin affirms, his brows furrowing as he slowly pieces together the events from the night before. He rolls back onto his side facing away from Stan as he continues, “And I came to your bed… as usual.”

“Right again.”

“And I’m waking in up your arms like this because?” Ford’s voice trails off sheepishly. Stan watches as his brother buries his face into the pillow a bit at this.

“You, uh, told me about your nightmares. How they're about me, about what I do to ya in ‘em… After hearing that I couldn't just roll over and go to bed – like usual. So, here we are.” Stan's voice becomes warmer, softer. He hopes Ford doesn't read into this more than he should.

“I see…” Stan can hear Ford’s mind start to wander. He knows he's running through last night’s events, trying to think of any way he could have done things differently. Like not telling Stan about the nightmares or just keeping to his bed altogether. Then Stan considers Ford might be rethinking this whole situation. He’d been pretty receptive the night before, but maybe now he was having second thoughts about his twin brother spooning him like this.

“Wait, Ford, is this ok? ‘Cause you seemed fine with this last night,” Stan inquires. The lack of an immediate response confirms Ford is indeed still in his own head. The ensuing silence seemingly confirms to Stan that his brother has changed his mind about this new arrangement. Crestfallen, Stan starts to loosen his hold on Ford and slowly starts to pull away.

Ford’s attention suddenly returns to the room. He rolls onto his back again, giving his brother a puzzled, yet surprised, look. He wiggles towards him to fill the newfound space, eyes larger than usual, not dropping this expression.

“Where are you going?” Ford asks. Stan detects a hint of wanton in his brother's voice but can't be sure he isn't placing that there himself. Still, there was a breathiness to this question Stan can't ignore and coupled with Ford’s reaction and current expression Stan thinks maybe he’s not reading into it all that much.

"It's, uh, still pretty early, I mean,” Ford continues. “Mom and Pop won't be up for a while so we don't have to worry about them coming in. Plus, I don't have to use the restroom or anything right now… Wait, do you have to use the restroom? Is that where you were going? Am I keeping you from- “

“Relax poindexter, I don't gotta go to the john,” Stan chuckles. He loves how flustered his brother is. It's so damn cute. “I asked if you were having second thoughts about this. Didn't get a response so I took that as a yes.”

“You mean to holding me,” Ford gulps, “like this?” His face is very red now and it takes all Stan’s willpower to not try to kiss him. Being this close and not being able to is both the best and worst at the same time.

“Yeah. I’m not trying to force anything on ya. Plus, you're ok now. If you want me ta stop just say so.” Stan hates that he’s giving Ford an out, but he really doesn't want to push his luck. Besides one night would be enough for him, right?

“I’m sorry Stanley! I didn't mean to ignore you like that,” Ford blurts, still flustered. “You know how I can get. But if I'm being honest, I actually enjoy this… quite a bit. So, if you don't mind, would it be alright to stay like this?” Ford’s looking Stan right in the eyes now and his voice is so earnest Stan has to look away to try and hide how hard he's blushing. Not to mention the urge to kiss Ford is nigh unbearable now.

“Sure, ya dork. I’ll stay put. But just ‘til Mom and Pop wake up.” Stan’s not sure he’s containing his excitement as well as he wishes he was, but he doesn’t care. He lies there, with his cute brother wrapped tightly in his arms, hoping his parents never wake up.

\------------------------------------

Stan can’t believe how well things have been going lately. It's been a couple weeks since Ford confided in him about his nightmares. After that night Stan was sure things would be weird between them, knowing how matters outside the realm of science could sometimes fluster his brother. Surprisingly, though, things hadn’t and Stan couldn't be happier.

They’d come to some silent agreement to share the same bed each night, whether it was Stan’s or Ford’s. It just depended on which one of them went to bed first. The other would crawl in after that. Before this Stan had slept on his back, but now they both slept on their sides, for obvious reasons. Stan would fall asleep with his back towards the wall while Ford would fall asleep facing the wall. This always allowed for Stan to be the big spoon, which Stan never objected to.

What made this new arrangement more-or-less acknowledgeable was the new channel of communication they’d opened. They were both more open with one and another with just about everything lately. From their nightly dreams, to school, to “crushes” and everything in between, there wasn't much they didn't talk about these days. For Stan, this was as close to perfect as things could get. He had his brother emotionally but he wanted more.

On top of all that, they wound up doing everything together now. This seemed to be yet another of their silent agreements. If Stan was stuck in detention after school, Ford was waiting for him when he got out. If Ford went to the library to study, Stan would be there with him on his best behavior (for as long as he could be, anyway) so Ford could focus. And of course, Ford was still Stan’s biggest cheerleader (or fan, if Stan’s not fantasizing) when it came to his boxing. He still went every time Stan practiced and to every fight Stan had.

Just having Ford around made Stan feel like he could do anything. He’d been on a hot streak ever since he and Ford started getting close. When he won his match two weeks ago not even Pops could believe how well he was doing. It was the first time in who knows how long that Stan could remember their father being impressed by something Stan had done. He wouldn’t have believed it himself if his old man hadn’t come and told him when the match was over. This final qualifier was the last one he needed to get his invite to the big intercity championships a couple towns over and he knew Pops was even more impressed by that.

Both Pops and his trainer wanted to know what Stan was doing differently. Stan knew he wouldn’t have won if it hadn’t been for his brother. Of course, he couldn’t tell anybody this, not even Ford. He figured that Ford knew on some level that he had something to do with it, though, even if it was just as brothers and not as some kind of muse for Stan’s fisticuffs. But that’s all Stan needed – as long as Ford was with him there wasn’t anything that could stop him.

So, naturally, when Ford told his brother he wouldn’t be able to join him and Pops for his big match the day before they were planning to drive over, Stan was crushed.

“What do ya mean you ain’t comin’?” Stan doesn’t know what would make his brother change his mind at the last minute like this. Maybe it was something he did? He wants to ask if that’s the case but instead asks, “You do know how important the inner-city finals are to me, don’t cha?”

“Is this event just for kids who come from less than average means?”

“Less than average wha?”

“You meant _intercity_ finals, silly. Not inner-city,” Ford prods playfully. “And below average means would apply to someone who doesn’t come from much.”

“It ain’t like we live in the lap of luxury either, wise guy. You do realize that we ain’t got a whole lot ourselves, right?”

“We do alright,” Ford shrugs. “Mom and Pops provide for us well enough.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Returning to why I won’t be in attendance this weekend, you know we have our big science projects due soon. I need to make sure mine is perfect so when the people from West Coast Tech come out they see I’m right for their school,” Ford explains.

“Oh yeah. I forgot all about that,” Stan recounts. He actually had forgotten about that. He’d been done with his project for a while. He totally phoned it in. Not only because he knew he wasn’t trying to impress any school’s like Ford was, but also because he wanted to focus on training for his then-upcoming matches. Thankfully, all his training had paid off. “Can’t you put it off for just a little longer? It won’t be the same without you there. You’re like my lucky rabbit’s head.”

“Lucky rabbit’s _foot_ , Stanley,” Ford chuckles. “And as much as I appreciate that gross sentiment, I really should finish it as soon as possible. If I need to fine tune or tweak anything I’d rather make sure I have enough time to make those adjustments.”

“Alright, alright. You have my permission ta leave me high and dry when I need you most,” Stan sighs over dramatically. Deep down he means what he’s saying, but he knows it won’t come across like that. He’s also aware of how much it means to Ford to nail this project. He wants Ford to do well on this, even if it means he’ll have to leave him down the road…

“No need to be so theatrical, ya dork,” Ford ribs. “You’ll do just fine without me. Besides, you’ll have Pops. He’s like a much older, grumpier version of me. He’ll be a great substitute!”

“Yeah, yeah. If you say so,” Stan replies. There’s still a pang of sadness to his words, but he can’t help but smile a bit. Ford’s picked up on Stan’s sense of humor. He’s gotten it down to a science (it’s always science with this him) and has added his own touch to it, making it his own. Stan’s glad to know he’s rubbing off on his nerdier brother in this sense. It makes him wonder just how close they can really become. Lord knows where Stan would like things to go: from brothers to lovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad to finally be posting this! I've basically had this same version saved FOREVER, it just had a lot more tacked on to it. I wanted this series to be a 3 parter, but I wanted to keep the pacing even so I broke up part 2 a little. I must have been on a roll when I was writing all of this because it seems WAY better than some of the stuff I've been trying to write lately.
> 
> Anyway, I hope to be finishing the next part soon. I also hope everyone likes this one as much as the first one and please, as always, I hope to get some solid feedback.


	3. The Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan heads into the city for his boxing tournament. It won't be the same knowing Ford won't be there to root for him. The two chat the night before to catch up during their brief time apart.

Stan’s grateful to be at the motel. The drive over had been nice. It was interesting to see how things changed from their quiet, little beach town to the bustling city. Sitting there, listfully watching the passing scenery, alone with his thoughts was a neat change of pace. At least, for the first thirty minutes. The next hour and a half was spent trying to strike up a conversation with his old man and make sure his didn’t piss himself.

 

Pops was set on making the trip one continuous, uninterrupted drive in near silence. When Stan asked how much longer, he’d get a number followed by the word minutes each time. When he asked how things at the shop were going, he got a grumble in response. Finally, when he asked if they could stop so he could take a leak he was curtly told to stop asking so many questions. After that he really wished Ford had been there.

 

The first thing he did once he got into the room was use the bathroom. He’d never been so happy to pee in his life. Once he’d gotten his stuff situated Pops drove him to the locale to register. Walking around the gym he sized up some of the other contenders. He felt like he could take most of them. He’d need to keep that mindset until his fight since Ford wasn’t there to cheer him on. Which reminded him that he’d promised to call his nerdy brother at 7 that night.

 

He quickly registered so he and Pops could get dinner. Thankfully the meal wasn’t spent in total silence like the ride over had been. Pops was more excited for Stan’s matches than he’d given his old man credit for. He, too, had been sizing up the other boxers and they talked strategy over their steak dinners. If Pop had skimped on their room for any reason it was to make sure he could treat Stan with this meal. He was making sure Stan was primed and ready for the next day’s events. Stan, knowing better than to comment on this, silently accepted the gesture and made the most of the meal together.

 

The drive back was pleasant. Since dinner had gone so well Stan figured this was the best time to ask if he could use the room’s phone to call home.

 

“Hey Pop, think I could use the phone when we get back to the room? I wanna call home to see how Ford’s project is comin’ along.”

 

The older man thinks about it for a second. Without taking his eyes off the road he solemnly responds, “Alright. You got 10 minutes and not a second more. I’m not made of money.”

 

“Thanks Pops! I promise ta keep it short,” Stan replies graciously. He has to reel in his enthusiasm a bit, knowing just the thought of hearing Ford’s voice excites him. Maybe the old man’s not so unreasonable after all, Stan thinks to himself.

 

He can’t wait to talk to Ford. The last time they’d been apart this long was when they were 9 and Stan had been invited to his first (and only) sleepover and Ford hadn’t. A few hours into the party their mother showed up with Ford, who looked like he’d been crying. After chatting with the birthday boy’s mom Ford joined the rest of them. But, like always, Ford was teased and made fun of so Stan ended up punching out a few kids before their mom was called back to bring them home.

 

It was the look on Ford’s face as they sat in the back seat, street lights flashing through as they drove home, that made Stan start to fall for his twin. Ford’s eyes were so big, with the faintest smile, idly playing with his thumbs as he thanked Stan. Stan knew he was embarrassed and, not wanting to be too mushy, just punched Ford’s shoulder and told him not to mention it. Ford laughed it off and punched him back, but instead of returning his hand to his lap he let it rest in the middle of the seat. It took all of Stan’s willpower not to place his hand over his brother’s, and looking back, it’s something he still regrets not doing.

 

When they arrive back at the hotel room they each got ready for bed. Stan showered first. Coming out of the bathroom he checks the time. It’s 6:57. As he walks over to the phone Pops gets up to grab some fresh air and smoke a cigar. He reminds Stan that if he’s going to use the phone to keep it short and adds to say hi to the missus for him before he leaves the room. Stan counts his lucky stars that his dad won’t be in the room for the phone call.

 

He dials their number in and hears the other end ring once before being picked up. An exasperated voice comes through immediately.

 

“Hello? Stanley?” Ford asks breathily.

 

“Hey Sixer. How’s tricks?” Stan asks coolly.

 

“Fine, I suppose.” There’s a brief pause. “Yeah, they’re fine,” Ford continues, clearly frazzled.

 

“Were you waitin’ by the phone for me ta call ya?” Stan chuckles. He can picture his brother there, project strewn about the kitchen table, paying precise detail to the phone waiting for him to call.

 

“I, uh, yes… I was,” Ford sputters. “I told mom that I was expecting a call from you at 7 so that she wouldn’t be using it for her readings,” Ford explains. “She’s in the other room at the moment. She wanted me to have my privacy for this, though she knows I’ll just be speaking with you.”

 

“Sounds like her,” Stan replies. “We gotta keep it short. Pops only gave me 10 minutes to make this call and fortunately he’s outside right now. So, how’s your nerd science project coming along?”

 

“My Perpetual Motion Machine is coming along quite nicely, thank you. At the rate I’m going, it should be done by weeks end,” Ford remarks excitedly. His tone becomes quieter as he adds, “Honestly, I could have come with you and Pops. I thought I needed much more time to finish it.”

 

“Hey, don’t sweat it. I know you woulda been here if ya thought you really needed to be. Pops and I talked strategy at dinner and I gotta say, I’m feelin’ pretty good about my odds tomorrow,” Stan says confidently, brushing his knuckles against his chest. “I won’t lie though, it ain’t gonna be the same without you there Sixer… You really are my good luck charm.”  


The distance is clearly getting to Stan because he’s being far more open about things than he would be if he were talking to Ford in person. With any luck Ford will reciprocate some of his candidness and let Stan know he’s not the only one who’s got _those_ kinds of feelings for their twin brother.

 

“I’m really sorry Stanley.” Stan can hear the earnest emotion in his voice and knows Ford really wanted to be there with him. “But I suppose it evens out a bit. I’m not attending your matches tomorrow and you’re not here tonight,” Ford says coyly.

 

“What do ya mean?”

 

“I mean I won’t be there to support you in the ring and you won’t be there to support me in bed.” Stan thinks for second, glossing over how sexual that came across. Then it clicks.

 

“You won’t have me there with ya while you’re asleep!” Stan exclaims.

 

“Correct,” Ford chuckles.

 

“I totally forgot about that. You gonna be alright by yourself for a night?”

 

“I think I can manage for one night. I’ve become so accustomed to having you next to me, though… It’s not going to feel the same without you.”

 

“Yeah, I know whatcha mean... These last few weeks have been pretty great. I’m surprised you ain’t sick of me yet,” Stan laughs. He can’t believe it never occurred to him that Ford would be on his own for a night. But maybe the space would be a good thing. They’d been spending all of their free time together and while Stan loved every second of it he wasn’t entirely sure if Ford felt the same way.

 

“I would say the same to you! Only a true masochist would put up with my library visits like you do.” Stan checks the time to see it’s 7:05 now. He’s not looking forward to ending their call. Even though they’d been on the phone for five minutes, it doesn’t feel like nearly enough time.

 

“You know, you weren’t the only one who was excited for this call. It’s funny, I was so quick to make it right after I got out of the shower that I didn’t even throw any clothes on. Kinda surprised Pops didn’t tell me to before he stepped out…”

 

“So- you’re currently, ah, naked at the moment?” Ford’s tone is very hushed a tad breathy. “I wonder how father missed that… if I were present I wouldn’t mind your state of undress… no, not at all… nothing I wouldn’t have seen before, right?” his voice continues to wander. Stan can practically see Ford pulling at his collar, all frazzled and flustered on the other end. He knows how to push his buttons and loves when his brother short circuits like this.

 

“I ain’t naked, ya dork. I got a towel on. If I were Pops would have knocked me around himself. Coulda crowned him the champion and called off the whole tournament,” Stan half-jokes. As much as he’d like to keep teasing Ford he needs start to wrapping this call up. “Hey Sixer, mind I put you on hold for a sec? I really outta put some clothes on.”

 

“No!” Ford bursts out. “I mean, we don’t have much longer to chat. Not to mention you’ll be wearing something similar tomorrow so you’ll want to have an idea of what that’ll fell like and-“

 

“Alright, alright! Yeesh! I’ll stay practically naked for you Sixer.” It’s always lists with this guy, Stan thinks. He’s also thinking it’s pretty hot that his brother prefers the idea of talking to his twin clad in just a towel than in something less scandalous. It’s a good thing neither him or their father are in the room or he’d have to hide the noticeable tent he’s pitching.

 

Through the phone Stan hears his mom holler in the background. “One second Stanley. Mom’s calling me from the other room.” He checks the clock once again, seeing the time is 7:07. Just as soon as it was set down, he hears the phone jostle on the other end.

 

“Hello? Stanley?” Ford asks, returning to the call.

 

“Yeah, I’m here Sixer.”

 

“Mom just told me she needs to get back to her readings. She has a good feeling about tomorrow. Apparently, your stars are aligned in a very positive sign tonight. She also wants you tell Pops she says ‘hello’.”

 

Typical, Stan thinks. He knows his mom avoids talking on the phone except with clients (potential or otherwise) because she thinks it will drain her psychic energy or some mumbo-jumbo. But he knows that she still meant everything she told Ford and he appreciates that.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Stan chuckles. “Tell mom thanks and that Pops says ‘hi’ as well.”

 

“Of course, Stanley. Do your best and knock ‘em dead tomorrow. Well, not literally, but do try to knock them out I suppose… You know what I mean. I’ll be rooting for you.” There’s a warmth to Ford’s words that reach Stan through the phone and Stan feels like his brother is there with him. He feels like tomorrow will be a piece of cake.

 

“I know ya will Sixer. You’ve always got my back,” Stan says, smiling to himself.

 

“Well, I should get back to my project,” Ford sighs. Again, there’s a brief pause before Stan hears his brother draw in a large breath. “When you return, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

 

Just then Pops walks in. Stan quickly crosses his legs and his eyes shoot to the time. It’s 7:09. “Alright, I gotta get goin’. Big day tomorrow,” he says enthusiastically. He hopes his old man will think he’s getting off the phone with his mom when he adds warmly, “I love you.”

 

He waits for a response. His dad is coming closer to him, looking stern and more than a little irritated. Finally, Ford responds, “I love you too, handsome.”

 

With that he slams down the phone and throws a pleading look onto his face. He wants to look at the clock to make sure it’s not somehow past 7:10, but he’s afraid that if he breaks eye contact with his old man that it’ll come off as a concession of guilt.

 

“You were cutting it awfully close there Stanley. I’m glad you knew I wasn’t playing around,” his father says. “Now, I have to ask, why on earth aren’t you dressed yet?” An eyebrow cocks from behind his shades, the rest of his face staying eerily still.

 

“Sorry sir, it just slipped my mind,” Stan admits, opting to be as honest as possible. Knowing that reason isn’t gonna be nearly enough for Filbrick Pines he tries to change the subject. “By the way, Ford’s project is almost done. Oh! And Mom says ‘hello’,” he continues with a smile.

 

“Real smooth, ya knucklehead,” the stoic man chides. “I’m gonna take my shower now. When I get out I expect you to be in bed. I need my champ well rested for his big day tomorrow.” The last part is said with a faint smile and Stan can’t help but want to make his dad proud.

 

“Of course, sir! I’ll get ready right away.” Stan’s affirmation gets a subtle nod in response as his father starts rummaging through his things. He pulls out his sleepwear and walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Once the shower starts, Stan changes into his pajamas. Getting settled into his bed, he replays his conversation with Ford in his head. Even though it just happened, Stan wants to relive it over and over as much he can.

 

Wanting him to keep his clothes off? Calling him handsome? God, he hopes he heard Ford right. Lying in bed, he wonders what exactly his brother might want to talk to him about. His mind starts racing at the thought. Tomorrow’s tournament feels far less exciting now that he has something even more so to look forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is - part 3! Hopefully the ending didn't seem too different from the rest of the chapter. Trying to recreate the same mood I had going a year ago was tough. Parts 4 and 5 will be fresh starts so hopefully they won't take as long to get out. I hope everyone enjoys reading this as much as I did writing it!
> 
> As always comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! Also: check out my tumblr if you get a chance.  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/princesixfingers

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is the first fic I've ever posted online. I started writing a Swat Kats fanfic years ago but I never got around to finishing it. I actually started 2 other GF related fics before finally starting (and finishing) this one. lol
> 
> Hopefully if enough people like this and the feedback is good I'll write and post the second part I had planned for this little arc.
> 
> Thanks for reading and please feel free to let me know what you think! :)


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